


Ways to say I love you

by fandammit



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, Prompt Fic, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-12
Updated: 2016-06-12
Packaged: 2018-07-14 17:13:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 6,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7181996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandammit/pseuds/fandammit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt fics based on the prompt "the way you said i love you." Originally posted on tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. As a hello

He’s almost always the first one awake.

He’s found that Abby will spring up out of bed at a moment’s notice, without any grogginess or disorientation, if need be; knows that she can wake immediately at the slightest sound of urgency in voice.

Otherwise? Abby is many things, but a morning person does not seem to be one of them.

It’s a surprising thing he’s learned only recently; a facet to her personality he never would have guessed.

As he looks at her sleeping form next to him, he can’t help but feel awe at all the hidden things he gets to know about her, now. That she can’t fall asleep unless her feet are covered. That she’s more ticklish on her right side than her left. That a kiss along the slope of her neck always makes her shiver.

He feels her stir next to him, her body stretching languidly along the lines of his. As she turns to him and smiles, the sleep still weighing heavily in her eyes, he indulges in one more thing that is new and uncomplicated and extraordinary.

Brushes the hair from her face and says:

“I love you.”

Not as a shaking confession, torn from him in hopeful dreaming. Not as a whispered secret, a wish given shape only to the air and the stars.

But something simple and light - as obvious and expected as “hello” or “good morning,” as easy as breathing.

The sleep disappears from her eyes as she smiles up at him, threads her hands in his hair to bring him down for a kiss.


	2. Under the blankets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Combined "with a hoarse voice, under the blankets" and "as we huddle together, the storm raging outside."

“Abby, wake up.”

She scowls ferociously at him, which is impressive given the fact that she’s obviously still half asleep. It’s also completely, absurdly appealing in a way that makes him want to cup her face in his hands and kiss her until they’re both breathless and sweaty.

He doesn’t - but only just and really only because he knows today is a day that they really can’t be late.

“Abby,” he says again, reaching over to brush a tangle of hair away from her face, “we have to get up now.”

She sighs heavily and opens her eyes just enough to glance in the direction of the window. At the sight of the darkness beyond it, she shakes her head and shuts her eyes again firmly.

“Marcus, it’s still dark outside,” she mutters, voice still rough with sleep, “we do not need to get out of bed yet.”

He chuckles at her logic, continues on in a soothing voice.

“That’s just because it’s storming outside.” He leans over her, peaks at the clock on the bedside table. “We actually only have a little under an hour until we need to meet with the Blue Cliff and Shallow Valley clans.”

She groans loudly and drags the covers over her head, turns on her side and buries her face in his chest.

“Who even set this meeting this early?”

He tugs the blanket from beneath her arm, maneuvers himself until they’re both huddled underneath it. He wraps his arms around her and kisses her forehead.

“I did. But, to be fair, it’s not really that early.”

Somehow she manages to convey the concept of glaring at him even with her eyes completely shut.

“I hate you,” she mumbles sleepily, though she nestles closer to him as she says it. 

He chuckles as he tightens his arms around her.

“Well, that’s too bad, because I love you. Very much. Even when you’re being ridiculous.” 

Her lips turn up in the beginnings of a smile.

“Hm, say that again, but without that last part.”

He grins, then edges closer to her and rubs his nose against hers.

“I love you very much,” he says, softer this time, his voice rough with sincere emotion. 

She sighs contentedly then opens her eyes, blinks them rapidly once or twice to clear the sleep from them.

“Ok, I’m up.” She leans forward to brush her lips against his. “And I love you, too.”


	3. A whisper in the ear

There are benefits to having peace talks and trade agreements with the surrounding clans that go beyond the sociopolitical.

Their gardens and greenhouses are brimming with herbs and vegetables and, for the time in his life, fruits. After decades of living on algae and tasteless protein, his meals now sometimes feel like an assault on his senses. It’s a luxury he almost can’t believe is real. 

They have livestock now, too - a menagerie of animals that includes a chicken coop, a family of geese, a pen of sheep and goats, three cows, and two pigs that all the kids have gotten way too attached to and will probably never be for the sustenance they were originally intended for.

But perhaps arguably the greatest benefit (certainly, in the kids’ estimation) is the reality of dessert.

They’d known about dessert as a concept, of course - from old earth vids and movies from a time that was. But with supplies so closely watched and conservation so highly valued, food had only ever been a means of sustenance. The simple idea of something extra, something eaten for the sole purpose of enjoyment is a concept that feels foreign and slightly ridiculous.

Of course, all ideas of that nature disappear the day he brings a sweet cake drizzled in honey and covered in stewed berries back to Arkadia from the nearest traveling market. All the kids devour it with a speed that’s - quite frankly - astonishing, and from then on he spends an inordinate amount of time at trading posts and open air markets scouring the vendors for the best desserts to bring back to their growing village.

Tonight he feels particularly victorious as he returns from trading with the Shallow Valley clan. The teens are already lined up at the outside tables, eager to see what he’s brought back with him. Abby greets him at the gates with a kiss and looks at the cart he’s brought back with him.

“How much of that cart is dessert?”

He smiles at her.

“Just half.” At her laugh, he reaches over and threads his fingers through hers, brings up her hand to kiss it. “They’d just harvested a lot of their fruit orchards, so I have six different cakes and pies for the kids. But - I have warm cherry turnovers in my bag, just for us.”

She beams up at him and knocks her shoulder in his, steps in closer as she walks next to him.

“You’re too good to me, Marcus,” she says teasingly, affection lining every word.

He smiles and wraps his arm around her, leans close to her.

“It’s because I love you,” he says softly into her ear, punctuates the words with a gentle nuzzle to her cheek. She smiles and reaches up to caress his face with her hand.

“Alright, enough canoodling you two, some of us would like to actually be able to eat.” Raven calls out, a wide grin on her face. “Speaking of - where’s the dessert?”

He smiles at her, untangles his fingers from Abby’s to throw back the covering on the cart. A collective gasp goes up from the crowd of teens, so loud and heavy and dramatic that Abby actually covers her face and starts to laugh.

There’s a moment of stunned silence before Raven, Clarke, and Bellamy step forward to unload the cart and begin cutting up and distributing each dessert.

Abby wraps her arms around him and leans her chin on his shoulder. Sighs contentedly as she watches the group of children and teens rush excitedly to get a piece of cake.

“I love you, Marcus.”

Her voice is pitched low, but somehow Raven hears it anyway and looks at them both with a smirk.

“She only loves you because you bring her back pastries, Kane. Better keep bringing them. You know, for the good of your relationship.”

She laughs at the dry look that Abby shoots her, reaches over to break off a piece of her turnover before skipping away to join Clarke by the firepit. He turns to Abby and raises a questioning eyebrow at her.

“So you only love me for the desserts I bring you, huh?”

She bites her lips, tilts her head in his direction with a falsely thoughtful expression.

“Well, it certainly doesn’t hurt.” She laughs at his affected look of injury, leans over to bestow a powdered sugar kiss on his lips. “But I’d take you either way.”


	4. Loud, so everyone can hear

On the whole, Abby considers herself to be a very reasonable person.

Which is why she’s more than a little irritated at the fact that Marcus is looking at her right now like he can’t quite understand what it is she’s saying.

“So,” she says evenly, “let me just clarify what it is you’re all saying: you set off a hundred year old stick of dynamite to see if it still worked, forgot that you set it, had it go off way too close to all of you and nearly got yourselves killed?”

Marcus is quiet for a long moment. Raven snickers openly behind him, while John looks like he’s giving the least amount of effort to try to hide his smirk. Both of them throw up their hands and shake their heads, then cast their glances over at Clarke and Bellamy. Bellamy simply shifts uneasily on the balls of his feet. Finally, after a long moment of waiting, Clarke sighs and steps forward. The expression on her face is halfway between contrition and amusement, which is a combination Abby cannot for the life of her understand right now.

“Mom, it wasn’t quite like that.”

She levels a thoroughly unimpressed look at Clarke that she then aims at the rest of the group as well.

“Really? Because that’s exactly what it sounds like you all just said.”

John chuckles quietly, then stops immediately when Abby and Clarke glare directly at him.

He holds up his hands in front of him, then shrugs.

“I mean, she’s not wrong. That’s basically what happened.”

“Shut up, Murphy,” Clarke says wearily, though without any real bite to the words.

“I mean, we didn’t forget we set it, Abby,” Raven chimes in, “we just thought it was a dud and set it aside. And then…yeah, we kind of forgot about it. But, you know - good news! We can use it to help us build a road through that mountain so we can trade with the Blue Cliff clan.”

“And no one actually got hurt,” Bellamy adds, finally looking up from his feet, “Kane figured it out and got us all back far enough. I mean - a few cuts and burns and Kane - .”

He stops at a nudge from Raven. Abby sees it, but then becomes too distracted by the fact that Marcus is just standing there, staring off at nothing and seemingly uninterested in the entire conversation before him.

Abby tips her head in his direction and glares furiously at him.

“And what about you, Marcus? Anything to add to this?”

He keeps staring off at some point behind him - until Raven knocks her shoulder and jerks her head in Abby’s direction.

He looks panicked for a moment, then swallows thickly before stepping closely to her with an apologetic look on his face. He leans in, close to her ear, and sighs heavily.

“I’M, UHM, SORRY, ABBY. I LOVE YOU.” 

They’re words that should be said in a low, loving whisper.

Marcus, however, says them in a shout loud enough to be heard at least two hallways down. She flinches back violently and instinctively covers her ears as Raven and John burst into peals of laughter behind Marcus, Raven doubled over as she very nearly howls in delight. Clarke, too, lets out a loud shriek of laughter before quickly covering her mouth, though she continues to laugh silently and hysterically if the shaking of her shoulders is any indication. Only Bellamy manages not to break down completely, though he’s grinning so hard she thinks his cheeks must hurt from the force of it.

He claps his hand on Marcus’s shoulder and shakes his head vigorously, points over to a chair beside Abby’s desk that he walks over to and collapses in, a look of complete embarrassment on his face.

Abby tilts her head at Bellamy and raises an eyebrow.

“Kane, uh, got the worst of the blast. It went off really close to him, so I don’t think he can actually hear anything that’s going on right now.”

She throws her hands up and hurries over to Marcus, runs her hands over his face and gives him a kiss. He looks up at her warmly, relieved. After a few moments of checking his ears, she sighs, writes “you’ll be fine” on a piece of paper and gives it to him before she returns to the group of teens.

“Why didn’t you tell me that he couldn’t hear anything?”

Raven furrows her eyebrows at her, spreads her hands in front of her as though the answer is self-evident.

“Obviously because it would be way funnier like this.” She shrugs off Abby’s glare with a truly gleeful grin. “And hey, now we and basically everyone within a 100 foot radius knows that Kane’s in love with you, so, you know - win, win.”


	5. A taunt, with one eyebrow raised and a grin bubbling at your lips

He’s looking over at her, trying to catch her eye over dinner. She’s very pointedly looking away from him, seemingly completely focused on an inventory list of their medicinal plants and herbs.

Finally, he puts his hand over the paper and drags it away from her.

“Abby, I know you’re not actually looking over that inventory list.”

She exhales forcefully and furrows her brow at him.

“Well, I’m not now.”

He tilts his head and gives her a skeptical look.

“We’re meeting with the Broadleaf clan tomorrow. We need to figure this out.”

She sighs and crosses her arms in front of her, seems to deflate with the motion.

“But…I don’t…want to?” She stares at him with an honest-to-god, full-on pout. It’s so endearing and adorable and tender that he almost just gives in right there.

Instead, he shakes his head and reaches across the table to clasp her hands in his.

“Abby, one of us has to meet with King Etane.”

She nods, looks at him expectantly for a long, drawn out moment before she wrinkles her nose.

“I know you’re going to say that it should be me.”

He nods at her.

“But, have you considered this: I absolutely don’t want to.”

He huffs an abrupt chuckle.

“Yeah, for some reason, that had crossed my mind.” He runs his thumbs over her knuckles. "But I would like to remind you that I have met with the last three leaders, which - “

“You definitely should do since you’re the Chancellor and the official ambassador for Sky Crew - but go on.”

He raises an eyebrow at her and continues.

“Which I was going to say I certainly don’t mind doing and recognize as my main duty. But we both know that King Etane likes you better and you’ll be better able to speak to our medical capabilities and training. Meeting with the king yourself will be the best shot we have to a trade agreement that’s beneficial to both sides - and you yourself mentioned on their last visit that the king’s son would make a good apprentice.”

“Marcus, you can speak to our medical capabilities almost as well as I can.”

“That can’t be true. Plus, I do want to put out there again that I met with the last three clan leaders - including the one that keeps not so subtly hinting at a political alliance between me and her daughter.”

She huffs impatiently.

“Well, that’s the one I wouldn’t have minded meeting with.” Suddenly, she narrows her eyes at him. “Wait a second, did you meet with the other ones so I would have to be the one to meet with King Etane?”

He shakes his head at her, looks positively affronted at the suggestion.

“Of course not. I did those meetings because it’s what’s best for our people. Just like you meeting with the King is what’s best for Arkadia.”

“Right. It has nothing to do with the fact that Etane is a pompous, self-aggrandizing idiot who you hate?”

“None at all. This is for the good of Arkadia, Abby.”

At her raised eyebrow, he sighs heavily.

“But I do recognize that this is a sacrifice, so I will take care of all morning meetings for the next month.”

She tilts her head for a moment, considering.

“And?”

He sighs.

“And I’ll be responsible for taking the kids to the open air market next week.” At her skeptical look, he throws his hands up. “And I will let you have the last cherry turnover of the season that I was hiding from you.”

She pulls her hands out of his grasp, hits him on the shoulder with the back of her hand as he sits grinning at her.

“I knew one of them had gone missing!”

He laughs and reaches back over to twine his fingers in hers.

“All that is yours if you just meet with the king tomorrow.” 

She grinds her jaw for moment, closes her eyes and then takes a long, slow exhale before looking at him with a defeatedly.

“Fine, I’ll do it.”

He smiles brightly at her, leans across the table to kiss her firmly on the lips.

=======

He passes her the next day as she walks down the hall with the King. He’s eating the last slice of apricot pie he brought back from his last foray to the traveling market, on his way out to ride horses with Bellamy, while she seems to be just barely tolerating a long-winded speech from the King.

As they pass one another, she scowls and brushes close to him.

“This is so not worth it,” she hisses into his ear.

He takes a bite of the pie and grins brightly at her.

“I love you,” he replies, his expression falsely sympathetic but his words a gleeful tease.

She glares at him, but can’t keep the corners of her mouth from turning up. She reaches over and steals the pie just as he’s about to bite into it, hurries after the king with a triumphant grin on her face.


	6. Before we jump

“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this.”

He looks back at Abby, an expression that’s a cross between irritation, fear, and disbelief written across her face. Her knuckles are turning white from how hard she’s gripping the tree next to her, even though she’s a full twenty feet away from the edge of the waterfall.

He’s perched on the side of a rock, close enough to peer casually over the edge of the waterfall and into the glistening pool that the rest of the teens are currently splashing and swimming around in.

“It’s not that far down, Abby.” He skirts closer to the edge of the cliff, only stopping when he hears Abby hiss out his name. “The kids are all fine and it’ll be more trouble than it’s worth to climb back down the way we came.”

“I’m not sure I agree with that statement,” she says dryly, though there’s a shiver to her statement that belies her nervousness.

He takes one last look over the falls and turns back towards her.

“Taking a running start is probably the best way to go about it. We need to make sure we jump out far enough so that we don’t hit the cliff face or any of the rocks near the edge of the falls. Any slowing could be pretty dangerous.”

She squints at him, furrows her brows in exasperation.

“Why are you telling me this? How is this supposed to make me feel any better?”

He walks backwards towards her and reaches out to grab her hand.

“Remember what I said about slowing down.”

“Marcus,” she says, a warning note to her voice. He grins over at her.

“Also remember that I love you and I’d never let anything happen to you,” he says before planting a firm kiss on her lips. The hard, frightened expression on her face softens as she opens her eyes and looks at him.

He grips her hand tightly and crouches down, pulls her abruptly along as he begins to sprint for the edge of the cliff. Her hand tightens around his in a way that’s nearly painful, but her legs keep up with his despite the half foot of height he has on her.

She starts to scream before they even hit the edge of the cliff, lets out a truly impressive list of curse words that makes him laugh out loud as they leap out into clear, blue sky.

They hit the water together, plunge down into the chilly depths and resurface to the sound of cheers around them.

Abby ducks down to clear the tangled hair from her face, then swims over and loops her arms and legs around him.

He wraps his arms around her waist and kisses her on the lips.

“See? I told you I wouldn’t let anything happen to you. Now you won’t be so scared next time.”

She laughs, threads her fingers up and into the dripping ends of his hair.

“I love you, Marcus,” she says, ducking her head down to deposit a kiss on his forehead, “but I want you to know that I am never doing that again.”


	7. Muffled, from the other side of the door

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set in some ambiguous future time where Marcus makes a self-sacrificing decision for whatever - as you know he would, but manages to come out unscathed.

It’s late when he comes back to Arkadia.

He walks slowly down deserted halls, pauses in front of the door to their room.

Abby’s room, he corrects himself silently. Because that is, after all, what it technically still is.

He has his own room, of course - a spartan, lonely place that he doesn’t even keep a toothbrush in any more. He wonders if she’d prefer if he stay there tonight.

He’s still trying to figure it out when he hears her voice on the other side of the door.

“I know you’re out there,” she says, her words muffled by the steel between them. “You can come in.”

He rests his head briefly on the door before pushing it open, is prepared for whatever verbal lashing he knows he deserves -

Only to be met by a slamming bathroom door and an empty room. After a short moment, he hears the shower turn on.

He rolls his shoulders back and runs a hand through his hair; walks over to the bed and takes his shoes off, patiently waits for her to come out of the bathroom.

A few minutes later, he hears the shower turn off. He expects to her to come out quickly; when she doesn’t, he stands up and knocks on the bathroom door.

“Abby?”

Silence. Then -

“What.”

The word is short, curt. Only the leaden sigh he hears at the end gives him an indication that the shortness of the words might be for a reason other than anger.

“Abby, come out and talk to me, please.”

“No.”

It’s soft, but firm. Even though he has to crane his head into the door to hear them, they’re clearly laced with a stubborn finality. He lays his forehead on the thin sheet of metal between them, rests his palm on the surface next to him.

“Please? I’d like to at least look at you while we speak.”

It’s quiet for a moment. Then, he hears her inhale deeply.

“I can’t, Marcus. Because if I open the door and see you, I’ll just be happy that you’re actually alive and here and in front of me. And I’ll stop being furious that you’re always leaving to go and sacrifice yourself. And I just - .” 

She stops abruptly, but not before he hears a quaver in her voice that makes his throat ache with guilt.

“But I’m here now, Abby. Everything turned out ok.”

It’s frail excuse, even to his own ears.

“That’s not - .” He hears her blow out a frustrated breath. “You should have told me. At the very least, Marcus, you should have told me that you were leaving. I shouldn’t have to hear it from someone else.”

“I was afraid you’d tell me not to go.”

She laughs, bitter and biting.

“Would you have listened?”

“Yes.” The word is firm, sure. Whatever the answer was or would have been before has been obliterated by all that he knows and feels, now. 

His answer is met with silence on the other side of the door. He wonders if she believes him. He wonders if she’ll know it was as much for her as it was for him.

“I love you,” he finally says, the muffled words breathed out warmly into the cold steel of the door.

She’s quiet for a long, brittle moment. Then, he hears the door unlock, steps back as she carefully opens the door and looks at him with sorrow in her eyes.

“Then stop trying to leave me behind.”

She looks so lonely and abandoned that his heart clenches in his chest, his veins collapsing with guilt and shame. He steps forward and gathers her in his arms, wrapping her gently in his embrace. She collapses into him, sighs into his neck.

“Abby, I’d never - .” Leave you if I could help it, is the other side of that statement - but he knows those are words that are no comfort, really.

He inhales sharply.

“I’m not - .” Going to leave you behind, is the tail end of that sentence - a promise he knows it isn’t in his power to keep.

So instead he presses closer to her, leans into her ear, and says the only true words he can find.

“Abby, I’m sorry. I should have talked to you first.” He feels her nod into his shoulder. “We’re in this together, always. But I didn’t treat you like we were.”

She sighs. Steps back from him and threads her fingers through his hair, looks up at him.

“I wouldn’t have said no, Marcus.” She looks at him with a determined stare. “I would’ve just gone with you.”

He huffs quietly, moves forward to rest his forehead on hers.

“And if I had said no?”

She shakes her head.

“We’re in this together, Marcus. It can’t just always be your life for mine or your life in place of everyone else’s.” She looks up at him, tender and unflinching at the same time. “You’re a part of me now, too.”

He gives her a long look, wonders how it is he deserves this. Realizes he doesn’t but has it anyway; allows himself to marvel in that simple, absurd, wonderful reality.

He leans over to kiss her softly on the lips.

“Ok, Abby.” He smiles at her, then cups her face in his hands and kisses her once more. “Together, or not at all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credit to Doctor Who for the last line.


	8. Chapter 8

He wakes to find Abby sitting next to him. That alone brings a smile to his face. The fact that he didn’t expect to wake at all makes the action worth the pain it’s currently bringing him.

He tries to move his arm to clasp her fingers in his, but finds that the motion is too agonizing to complete. After he catches his breath, he tries to determine where exactly the pain is coming from and realizes that it’s _everywhere_.  

“Marcus,” she says, his name a sigh of relief in her mouth. She leans over and kisses him gently on the forehead.

He grins up at her, weakly, because the ache in every movement he commits to is wearing him down quickly.

“Hey.” He takes a deep breath. “Did we win?”

She nods.

“Both sides have agreed to a cease-fire.” She gives him a small smile that’s troubling in the way that it lights a melancholy gleam in her eyes.

“Something’s wrong.” He grimaces with the effort of the words. “What is it?”

“The king is dead. His son is in charge, now.” She lays her hand on his cheek, brushes the hair back from his face but avoids looking at him directly. “He’s willing to sign a peace treaty with us. Open up trade negotiations.”

He furrows his brow at her.

“That’s all good news, right?” He tilts his head, tries to catch her eye. “What am I missing?”

“His wife is sick. I’m not - he doesn’t know what it is, but he wants her looked at. Cured, actually.” She takes a deep breath and finally looks at him. “That’s the only way he’ll sign a peace treaty.”

“What happens if she can’t be cured?”

She bites her lip and shakes her head.

“We can’t think that way. We just have to hope that she can be.”

“Is she here?” He tries to turn his head, look around the medical bay around him.

Abby shakes her head.

“She couldn’t make the journey. They had to leave her in the capital. I’d - I’m going to go there.” She tries to smile at him, but the expression gets stuck halfway between a look of apology and resolve, looks more like a grimace instead. “That’s why I’m glad you’re awake - I’m leaving soon.”

His eyes widen.

“Abby, no.” He attempts to get up, but can barely lift his head before he drops back down onto the bed. Tries not to writhe in agony. He looks at her, the suffering in his eyes half from the pain in his bones, half from the ache in his heart. “ At least wait until I can go with you,”

“Marcus,” she says it gently, though he can hear the finality in her tone. “It’s decided. And no one from Sky Crew can join the returning party, anyway. Not without violating the cease-fire. It has to be just me or nothing at all.”

“But - .”

“I’ve already had this conversation with Bellamy and Clarke, Marcus.”

He shakes his head.

“I can’t believe that Clarke - that either of them - agreed to this.”

“They didn’t have to.” She looks at him, all steely resolve and determination. “I wasn’t asking for permission.”

“And what happens if you can’t cure her?” He swallows, looks up at her with panic in his eyes. “What happens to you?”

She gives him a long, still look.

“You’ll know what to do if that happens, Marcus.”

He feels his chest collapse in agony.

“Abby, no, please.” He summons every ounce of strength he has within him, ignores the screaming from every muscle and bone and tendon in his body, and raises himself up to a seated position. “I can’t - I won’t be - .” He starts shaking, both from the effort of sitting and the thought of a world without her. “I can’t do this without you.”

She shakes her head, cups his trembling face in her warm hands.

“You could, if you had to.” She kisses him slowly, swallows his protests; leans her forehead on his. “I love you, Marcus.”

She steps away from him. He grits his teeth to stop the tremor in his hands, reaches out to lock his fingers around her wrist.

“Please don’t go, Abby. Don’t leave. We’ll figure something else out.” He brings her hand closer to him, wraps it in both of his and tugs her back towards him. “I love you. Please don’t do this.”

She takes a deep breath and steps forward, looks at him in an achingly tender way, her eyes roaming the contours of his face slowly, thoughtfully.

He smiles at her hopefully and -

Feels the pinch of a needle in his neck.

As the sedative takes hold, he feels her hands in his hair, over his face, fingertips tracing his jaw. Before he falls asleep completely, he feels her mouth graze his ear.

“I love you, Marcus.” She says softly, a tremor slipping onto the last syllable of his name. “Always.”  

* * *

 

“I’ll make sure she’s ok, Kane.”

He wakes to find Octavia sitting next to him, the somber look and dark paint on her face a contrast to the look of gentle affection in her eyes.

He swallows, looks up at the ceiling above him before turning incrementally towards her.

“No member of Sky Crew is allowed to join the returning party.”

She snorts, raises her eyebrow in grim amusement.  

“Then it’s good that I’m not a member of Sky Crew, isn’t it?”

She stands, looks down at him in a moment of hesitation before reaching over to rest her hand on his arm.

“We’ll both come back alive, Kane.” She squeezes his arm gently before releasing it. “I just don’t know if we’ll be bringing war back with us.”

 


	9. In a way I can't return

Even before she knew the taste of his lips on hers, she could always tell how Marcus was feeling at any given moment simply by the way he said her name.

“Abby,” he’d say with a flinty look in his eyes, and she’d recognize that he was about to vote against her.

An emphasis on the first syllable meant he was just about to give up the argument and concede, while the sound of her name, soft and firm, and she’d know to steel herself for another cutting argument.

In the blissful, tumultuous after of ALIE and the fall of the City of Light, she finds herself drawing up new blueprints, finding new patterns in the way he says her name, now.

“Abby,” a puff of air between his lips and she knows he’ll do whatever she asks of him, in that moment.

An elongated second syllable means he’s about to gently reproach her for not taking good enough care of herself, while a gentle note of surprise means he’s about to kiss her.

And always, no matter the time or place or tone, there is a pause after her name. Sometimes barely decipherable - perhaps really only noticeable to her - but there all the same. And in that pause, she knows, always the same, lovely three words: I love you.

Even in this, she begins to find, that even though I love you always means exactly what he says - it also has hidden, other meanings.

“I love you,” before she’s fully awake is half greeting, half apology that he has to wake her up now, for whatever reason.

“I love you,” emphasis on love means he’s about to ask a favor he knows she’ll only say yes to because that statement is true.

“I love you,” quietly at the end of argument is i’m sorry and thank you and i’m glad this is over all at once.

There is another, additional category that she has to decipher now, too: ways to say I love you that don’t involve the words.

Letting her sleep in on busy mornings. Finding golden flowers to put on her desk. Saving her the last batch of cherries for the season.

Always in this she makes sure to return the gesture - a backrub before sleep, her share of zucchini fries at lunch, a firm look at the teens when the arguing gets to be too much. 

Says I love you as good morning and good night and I’m sorry and always, always, always just for the sake of itself. Because it’s true and honest in a way she still can’t quite believe she deserves, sometimes. 

She tries to make things even. Tries to return all the love he has for her. Tries to show it and say it in every possible way.

And yet -

She recognizes one, simple, wretched impossibility: 

That the scars on his wrists are more than painful reminders of agonizing past - they are another way to say I love you.

But in a way that she’ll never be able to return.


	10. In awe, the first time you realized you could say it out loud

Sometimes, he stares up into the stars and wonders at how remote they feel. Wonders at how that version of himself that he had crafted on the Ark could be so far from him, now.

On the Ark, he had spent his life working to jettison all non-essential parts of himself, until he was just a skeleton frame of a man inching towards survival. He could not conceive of a world in which mercy and kindness and love could matter.

But they live in a new world, now.

He’s confronted by that thought often -

When he does not wake every morning to the eternal blackness of the night sky.

When he does not spend his days worrying about lack of food and air and space.

When he does not have to think about the needs of the one and the many and how there is never enough left for either.

And in that new world, he’s become a new man. Perhaps neither braver nor greater, but softer, kinder.

Willing to love.

It’s this last, great facet of himself - now - that he finds the most extraordinary. And the most terrifying, too. 

Because love - all-consuming, complete, irrational, and glorious - is a part of himself that he thought he had long discarded from the framework of who he was.

And yet -

When he looks at Abby, all he can think, all that he knows is this: he loves her - completely, totally, final, and without question.

He marvels at it, sometimes (always) -

On the Ark, he would’ve done anything to keep the human race alive.

Now, his vision has limited, shrunk to an Abby sized outline.

He thinks of his love often, of course. Cannot seem to help but think of it. But a lifetime of hoarding words and mangling feelings keeps the words locked in his throat.

Instead - he dreams. Imagines saying the words to her late at night, before she falls asleep. Or else, in a grand proclamation - a hundred thousand flowers spelling it out for her. Thinks of nothing else for two weeks straight, loses sleep over the words, starts walking into walls as he agonizes over how and when and if he even deserves to say them.

Until -

One morning, after he’s just walked into another wall on their way to breakfast, Abby sits down across from him and lays the back of her hand across his forehead.

“Are you ok? I’m starting to get really worried about you.”

She says it with such tenderness, such obvious warmth that he can’t help but smile. Looks directly into her eyes and -

Sees her love for him. Constant and steady and sure.

Suddenly, he forgets about who he was or what he did for survival. Cannot remember the thousand and one reasons he’s come up with for why he doesn’t deserve this.

Instead, he leans forward and kisses her softly on the lips. Waits for her to open her eyes so he can look into them.

“I love you,” he says, half in awe, half in elation.

A smile splits her face, radiates out delight and astonishment and love. Pure, unfiltered love.

“I love you too, Marcus.” 

The simplicity of the exchange, the complete joy in the words makes him berate himself - briefly - for the agonizing weeks and months he’s spent thinking over them.

He should’ve just remembered that this is not the Ark - a place of impossible choices and sterile words.

This is a world of sweet cakes and chocolate coated strawberries. A world in which plenty is a mark beside their dreams instead of their troubles, in which hopeful is a way to describe the future.

A world in which he does not have to deny himself the simple pleasures of life. In which happiness is not a thing to be hoarded but a feeling to be shared.

A world in which he can say I love you, out loud and often; as a hello and a goodbye; in place of I’m sorry and I forgive you. 

It’s a new world they live in, now - 

It’s a better one.


End file.
